


Four Months

by yeats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First-war era, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pre-1981
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeats/pseuds/yeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius comes home from a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Months

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imochan/gifts).



The door slammed open – which was odd, Remus thought, because weren't doors supposed to slam shut? But now that he thought of it, doors were always doing the wrong thing in his life – shutting the wrong people out and only letting in bland-faced Ministry men from the Department of Beasts who 'how-do-you-sleep' him while scribbling down notes.

The door slammed open and Sirius slumped in, mud-caked and wearing the exact outfit Remus had known he would be. They were the only clothes missing from his drawers when Remus checked, the day after he'd left -– a nondescript t-shirt and a pair of dungarees almost certainly filched from James. His hair had gotten longer; it spilled over his shoulders and the fringe curled around his cheeks. 

Neither man spoke. Remus continued to chop the vegetables, but stopped after realizing he very well might be slicing off his fingers. He inclined his head. "Beer in the icebox."

Sirius shifted his rucksack from one shoulder to another. "Food?" he croaked.

"Give me ten minutes." The knife in Remus's hand shook.

\--

After they'd finished eating, Sirius leaned back in his chair -– his chair, which Remus had had to bashfully retrieve from under a nest of papers in the den. Feet splayed out under the table so they almost brushed Remus's, he took a long sip of coffee. "Are you going to ask me where I've been?"

Remus crumbled half a cinnamon biscuit into his cup – he'd never liked coffee, but it balanced the bitterness enough to be bearable. "It's been four months," he said. He licked crumbs off his first two fingers.

Sirius watched him, not bothering to hide the hunger on his face. "And you don't want to know?" He set down his mug. “It doesn't make you anxious?"

Remus chose his words. "If I asked, could you tell me?" He licked at the sweet rim of cinnamon. 

"Not the point," he mumbled, looking away. 

Behind them, the last plate tucked itself into the cupboard with a click. Remus heard the faucet gurgle off, and soon the sound of the constant clock reasserted itself. (One month after Sirius had left, he'd spelled the ticking mechanism silent, but had guiltily repaired it the next day.) Somewhere on the street below, a fire engine blared, on its way to another catastrophe.

"I got you presents," Sirius added.

"Really?" Remus said, surprised for the second time that night. "You didn't have to."

"Wanted to." Sirius bent over, and retrieved two lumpy packages from his sack, wrapped in yellowed newspaper. He slid them across the table with hollow thumps. "Open 'em."

Remus picked up the one on the left first; it felt oddly light in his hand. One nail slicing through the single pieces of tape, he unfolded the sheets to find a balled-up red scarf. He picked it up; the wool was soft between his fingers. 

“Learned to knit, have you?"

Sirius shrugged. “Needed something to do with my hands." They both worked through implications of that statement. Sirius’s cheeks reddened. "For when it gets cold," he added gruffly. “You’re always getting cold.”

Remus smiled. "It's already November."

"Colder, then. There's another one."

Folding the scarf into a small square, he set it aside and unwrapped the other package. A small, smooth stone fell into his hand, black and egg-shaped. 

"I found that one." Sirius coughed. "When I was away, and it reminded me of you."

Remus's brow furrowed slightly, just one line across his forehead. "Oh," he said. "Thank you."

"It didn't cause any trouble, and no one knew I had it, but I could keep it in my palm and," he took a breath. "And it didn't think I was stupid for wanting to hold something." His eyes were dark beneath his hair.

Remus banished both their coffee mugs to the sink. "Come on, then," he said, clutching the stone. "It's getting late."

\--

Afterwards, they lay in bed, the afterglow settling around them, not touching but only just. Sirius gave a murmur of displeasure when Remus stirred at last.

"Hush," Remus said, without any heat. He grabbed the sheet, slung it around his waist and stood. His legs trembled a bit, still coltish with adrenaline, like the morning after the full moon but a sweeter ache. Slowly, he paced around the room, resetting the wards.

Sirius stayed in bed, back flush against the wall. Remus felt Sirius’s eyes track him, a ghostly weight that mimicked the weight of Sirius's body over his own. He pretended Sirius wasn’t counting the new scars on his bare chest, shut the lights before he could arrive at an accurate tally. 

Sirius blinked owlishly, his eyes always taking an extra moment to adjust. "Everything okay?"

"Close enough," Remus said, and lay down beside him. 

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus's waist. "Now?" he murmured into the dark at Remus's neck, breath tingling the hairs there as each follicle remembered. His hands were more callused than they had been, but they still fit just above Remus's hipbones.

"It's been a long time," Remus admitted, right palm covering the back of Sirius's hand. They only ever said these kinds of things in the dark. His legs tangled back into Sirius's.

"Not too long?" 

"Never," Remus said, sure in his heart it was true.

**Author's Note:**

> a decade-old fic from back in the lj wolfstar era (with a new title and a few adjustments). i hope it holds up!
> 
> let's just assume everything i have ever written and will ever write about these two is for [imochan.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imochan/profile)


End file.
